Nocturnal Reverie
by Blitzgal
Summary: Post season seven fiction that features Faith and her continuing quest to redeem her past...also with Xander and Willow subplots.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Nocturnal Reveries  
Author: Blitzgal  
Contact: xencall@yahoo.com  
Website: undaunted.deadtime.net  
Rating: R for adult situations and language  
Spoiler Warning: Through the series finale  
Pairing: Willow/Kennedy; Faith/Spike  
Summary: Following the events of the season finale, this fiction supposes a possible continuation. Spoilers for those of you who haven't seen season seven; don't even read this summary! The Scoobies continue their fight against evil as Giles and Willow attempt to rebuild the Watcher's Council. Buffy has dropped out of sight (for the time being), taking Dawn with her to try and reconcile with their father. This fiction is about Faith and her continuing quest to redeem herself. You're probably wondering how I can possibly have Spike paired with her. You'll find out. One final note: I am not anti-Spuffy. I'm not against any 'ship, actually, as long as the story is good. But there is no Spuffy here. So don't write me any hate mail about it, because you've been warned well in advance.  
Disclaimers: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox Studios. I'm just borrowing them. No harm, no foul. 

* * *

_Prologue_

Staring out across the gleaming lights of the city, Faith pressed her cupped fingers against her lips to take a drag off her cigarette. The smoke burned an acrid path to her lungs, warming her from the inside. She wasn't going to warm up any other way out here—it wasn't even September yet but the nights dropped down to forty degrees or less when the skies were clear. According to the baby-faced dweeb who did the local weather in these parts that was unseasonably cold, even for North Dakota. 

As the brisk wind died down and the balcony she stood upon fell into a peaceful quiet, Faith was able to hear the murmured conversation going on in the motel room behind her. At some point during her smoke someone had nearly closed the sliding door in an attempt to ward off the smell. It had probably been Willow—she seemed like the type to be a little hysterical about second hand smoke. But even through the thick layer of glass between her and the group, Faith caught snippets of what they were saying. Heightened hearing was a part of the Slayer package, although the trait didn't exactly get much recognition, what with the strength and sheer killing power to overshadow it. 

"…close call," Giles was saying. "It may be time…on her way." 

Faith frowned and shook her head. Stubbing the cigarette butt against the metal railing, she flicked it out into the darkness. Three months and they were all fired up to cut the cord. Somehow it didn't surprise her. 

Today had been a close call. While they attempted to make contact with a ten-year-old Slayer named Charlotte Banks, a patrol car drove past the little girl's softball field. Faith had been busy holding the kid off after she nearly took out Wood's knee with a killer kick. At least the whole "Stranger Danger" campaign had done the trick—one look at the group of adults crowding around her and Charlotte's instincts took over. Without Faith around she would have beat the shit out of Robin and moved on to Giles before Willow even had the chance to open her mouth with a defensive chant. 

During the melee the cops driving by took a closer look, and one of them recognized Faith. She supposed her mug shot was plastered across the nation's police stations. A murderer was one thing, but the shield didn't take kindly to a gal busting her way out of prison and making them look like a bunch of buffoons. Since she was sure her record suggested that she'd be armed and dangerous, she had a good chance of getting shot before she was ever dragged back to prison. 

"…can't abandon her," Willow said, and Faith smiled wryly. Leave it to Red to back her up when the boys were ready to dump her ass at the nearest train station. 

Faith turned away from her view of the factory with its squat smokestacks pumping toxic black smoke into the night sky. Grabbing the handle of the sliding door, she wrenched it open and stepped into the threshold. Faith put her hands on her hips and stared at each of the faces that turned guiltily toward her. 

"So that's it?" she asked them. "We're done now?" 

Giles, seated at the deeply scarred table crammed into one corner of the small room, merely removed his glasses and began to methodically clean them with the handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his khakis. Faith shook her head at him and turned her attention to Robin. The tall man leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Staring down at the thin carpeting, he refused to acknowledge her questions. 

Only Willow was able to meet her gaze. She sat on the end of Faith's unmade bed, her legs primly folded beneath her. The witch had probably suffered the most during their travels that summer. While they often headed back to their impromptu headquarters in Cleveland, she'd spent many weeks without the company of her girlfriend. Since the relationship was still pretty new, Faith knew Willow had to have all kinds of itches that weren't getting scratched. 

She shook her head. It was time to focus. After three years in prison with only her mind to keep her occupied, her thoughts had a way of spinning off onto strange tangents when she didn't keep them under rein. 

"I'm a hazard to the operation," Faith said to Willow. 

At that comment, Willow winced and glanced down at the brown coverlet beneath her. "I think if we're more careful about your exposure, we can avoid this in the future," she began. 

Giles stood abruptly. "Keeping you safe would require a certain degree of vigilance that we cannot spare," he told Faith. "Our endeavors now are a hundred times more difficult than they were for the original Council. We have to track and find Slayers across the world, somehow manage them so that they do not cause harm to themselves or others, and all the while without a proper staff of Watchers." 

"I get it, Giles," Faith said. "But I don't need you to protect me. I'm the one that got my ass out of a sling this afternoon. Fact is, none of you were in any shape to do a damned thing about those cops. Wood over here spent the rest of the day icing his knee. What are you going to do the next time you're attacked by a renegade Slayer, huh?" 

Giles only frowned at her mocking grin. "This is serious, Faith," he murmured. "Frankly, I believe that you endanger all of us with your presence." 

Faith continued to smile at him, but a familiar weight settled around her heart at his words. For an instant she flashed back to her time in Sunnydale. She'd always been on the outs with the group, and at the time it was easy to blame their lack of loyalty on the sparkly blonde who always seemed to dazzle everyone around her. But Buffy was gone now—she was out of the biz for good, or so she claimed. Yet here Faith stood in the exact same spot, cut off and cast aside like she was trash. A girl could start to believe she really wasn't worth a damned thing after a few years of this treatment. 

"You know what, that's fine," Faith acquiesced. "I can get out of your hair tonight." 

"That's not what he's saying, Faith," Wood interjected, stepping away from the supportive wall. He was still limping slightly. The joys of being a regular human being. 

Spreading her hands open in front of her, Faith snapped, "What the hell is he saying, then? I think 'you endanger all of us' is pretty damned clear. Now if you all don't mind giving me some privacy, I'll just get packed. Unless you'd rather pass me off to the good old boys down at the precinct." 

"No," Willow said, jumping up from the bed. "We don't want you to get caught. That's why we're worried about you. You have extenuating circumstances that the police wouldn't understand…" 

Faith laughed, shaking her head. At Willow's quizzical expression, she said, "All the crap that went down these past five months doesn't change the past, Will. I've killed people. Innocent human beings who didn't do anything to deserve it. B. never even came close to that kind of darkness." 

"I did," Willow whispered. Giles turned away from her, a pained expression on his face. "I told you about Warren…what I did to him. You want to start swapping stories, let's go right now." 

"Yeah well, you're not getting kicked out," Faith muttered. "Now are you going to get out of here or do I have to leave all my shit behind?" 

"Where will you go?" Wood asked. Startled, Faith could only stare at him wordlessly. "I'm only asking because while this is a very dramatic exit and everything, I don't think you've really thought this through. What are your plans?" 

Faith furrowed her brow. "Hell if I know," she admitted. "But that's nothing new to me." 

She didn't really have that much, so her secondhand army duffel bag was filled in a matter of minutes. For some reason Willow insisted on staying behind even though the guys had gone off to their rooms. Faith drew the line at letting her help with the packing…that was just a little too much of a slap in the face, even for her. 

"It's not so bad," Faith said when she caught the look on Willow's face. "Buffy's already jumped ship, you know? And you guys have a lot of resources and people on your side. You're better off than you were the first time I was taken out of commission. At least this time I'm conscious." 

Willow didn't so much as crack a smile at the joke. Faith sighed. Stepping closer to the red-haired woman, she murmured, "Look, if you're so worried about me going off on my own, why don't you hook me up with some funds, you know? For cigs?" 

Expecting a serious comment by the way Faith had stepped forward, Willow was shocked by the appeal for money. She burst out laughing, and Faith relaxed for the first time since leaving the balcony. "You're terrible," Willow sputtered, covering her face with her hand. 

When Faith realized she was crying, she uncomfortably took a step back. "What's the deal?" she asked. "Six months ago you didn't even like me." 

Still hiding her face in her hands, Willow shook her head. "Everyone is leaving," she cried. Quickly composing herself, she said, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Emotional outburst complete." 

Faith frowned. "Good," she said. "Look, it's not like I'm never going to see you guys again. I just need to lay low, get a feeling for the sitch. Giles is right. It's better if I do this on my own." 

Feeling awkward, Faith patted Willow on the shoulder. "Yeah, so…I'm gonna head." 

As Faith reached the door, Willow called out behind her, "Wait!" 

Sighing inaudibly, Faith turned in time to spot a wad of green flying in her direction. "For cigs," Willow explained. 

Glancing down at the crumpled twenties in her hand, Faith snorted. "You know, you're all right, Red," she said. 

"It's probably safer if you stick to darkness," Willow advised. "Less possibility of being spotted…well, I'm sure you know more about this than I do." 

Faith nodded. "I'm like a vamp," she promised, pumping her fist into the air. Slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder, she stuffed the money into the pocket of her jeans and hurried out into the hallway before Willow had the opportunity to stop her again. 

She paused just outside the closed door of room 213, where Wood was staying. Their strange little thing hadn't really been much, not after his implication that she wasn't very good in the sack. Even though they fooled around a few more times later on, that had mostly been due to the fact that he'd almost been skewered and was feeling less than manly. Shrugging to herself, Faith realized that while she counted him as a friend, her personal feelings for him didn't extend that far after all. She didn't even feel a little twinge about leaving him behind. And here she thought she'd matured since the big house. 

Faith moved on, not even glancing toward the door of Giles's room. Reaching the stairs, she quickly hurried down toward the parking lot and made her way toward the empty street. At this time of night she wasn't likely to meet many suspicious gazes. She'd put in her time before dawn and then find someplace to crash. For the first time since breaking out of prison, she actually felt a little hopeful about her prospects. 

"You're still a little insane, Faith," she murmured to herself as she glanced up and down the street before crossing. 

To be continued... 


	2. Nocturnal Reverie: Chapter One

Title: Nocturnal Reveries  
Author: Blitzgal  
Contact: xencall@yahoo.com  
Website: undaunted.deadtime.net  
Rating: R for adult situations and language  
Spoiler Warning: Through the series finale  
Pairing: Willow/Kennedy; Faith/Spike  
Summary: Following the events of the season finale, this fiction supposes a possible continuation. Spoilers for those of you who haven't seen season seven; don't even read this summary! The Scoobies continue their fight against evil as Giles and Willow attempt to rebuild the Watcher's Council. Buffy has dropped out of sight (for the time being), taking Dawn with her to try and reconcile with their father. This fiction is about Faith and her continuing quest to redeem herself. You're probably wondering how I can possibly have Spike paired with her. You'll find out. One final note: I am not anti-Spuffy. I'm not against any 'ship, actually, as long as the story is good. But there is no Spuffy here. So don't write me any hate mail about it, because you've been warned well in advance.  
Disclaimers: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox Studios. I'm just borrowing them. No harm, no foul. 

Author's Note: We're finally getting into the meat of the story, and more familiar characters will be introduced in this part. I've used both references on the show itself as well as some rumors to continue the story as I have. And Kennedy's history, including her last name, are invented by me based on her comments during season seven. She seems to come from a wealthy family, so I am reflecting that here. I've also made up location names in Cleveland, so don't go looking for any of these places, because they don't exist. 

* * * 

_Part One_

Along the Chatworth River lies a vacant industrial zone that was once a major hub along the lumber trail stretching down from Canada and across the United States. Up until the mid-twentieth century it was a bustling area filled with blue-collar workers and fine business prospects. After several more identity changes, including a brief stint as a chemical treatment plant, the area finally lay vacant in the mid-1980's. Since that time no further development projects were ever completed. 

People never much questioned the fact that the area had become a veritable wasteland of empty warehouses and the remnants of manufacturing plants. They simply cast a blind eye to it, allowing it to remain untouched for nearly two decades. The city of Cleveland burgeoned and spilled around it, an ever-changing landscape of growth and vitality. But that particular area was abandoned, forgotten—like an unmarked grave. 

Most residents had no idea that the reason they so easily forgot about that place was because of what lay beneath it. A second Hellmouth buried by the ages—smaller than the one in Sunnydale, but still enough of a threat that it needed careful observation. This was where Giles finally decided to bring his motley crew of demon fighters and those Slayers who decided to remain under his tutelage. 

There were not many, and some of the girls had come along well after Sunnydale, but the Slayers who stayed behind did so without hesitation. After their battle with the First and the deaths of their original Watchers, these girls understood that there was too much work to be done. Rather than abandon the cause and leave it in the hands of just a few people, they would continue their training and hopefully assist the others in whatever way they could. 

Robin Wood parked the van behind an old warehouse that once stored the chemical compounds used to create fertilizer. The cracked paint across the front of the building proclaimed it to be the property of "Gurty & Bro," the remainder of the words having long been washed away by rain and snow. It was the largest and most contemporary building in the area, with several floors including two comprised solely of offices and other smaller storage areas. It was the perfect place for a small group of people to live while still maintaining their personal privacy. 

Willow awakened with a jolt as the van lurched to a stop. Nearly toppling out of the bench seat she'd been sleeping on, she was forced to brace herself against the back of the driver's seat to keep herself in place. 

"Sorry," Wood muttered. "Little too much brake that time. My knee…" he trailed off. Wood wasn't one to complain about his injuries, so even that little admission meant the pain was still pretty bad. 

"I told you I was more than happy to take over in Chicago," Willow said. "Granted, I've never driven in a big city and probably would have gotten us into southern Illinois before either of you woke up and noticed, but—" 

She stopped her babbling when Giles turned from the passenger seat to look at her. "It's fine, Willow," he said. "We're home now." 

Willow stared through the windshield at the battered brick façade of the warehouse in front of them. "Home," she sighed. 

No matter how sad that statement was, her emotions were instantly bolstered by the thought of the dark haired woman waiting for her inside. Taking a deep breath, she quickly turned toward the sliding door along the side of the van. 

"We can bring everything inside later, can't we?" she asked. "After we've all rested a bit?" 

Wood and Giles exchanged glances. While their paternalistic smugness would normally have infuriated her, Willow was too excited about seeing Kennedy to care. 

"I certainly don't feel like hauling boxes of books right now," Wood commented. 

"No, I suppose not," Giles admitted. "Although I do want to go over some of the tomes we were able to gather. I had no idea there was even another edition of Demons in the New World. It has some very useful passages concerning the migratory paths of several major species—you know, it's very interesting, but the colonization of this continent by European settlers bears some remarkable parallels to the introduction of certain…" 

He trailed off when Wood glared at him. "But of course we should rest before we worry about any of that," he added. "Or I can simply have the girls help me unpack." 

Nodding to no one in particular, Willow pulled open the side-door and jumped out of the van. As they approached the building, they heard the echoing cries of several girls inside. 

"Oh, lovely," Giles said, fatigue straining his voice. "We're just in time for the afternoon calisthenics." 

Willow smiled and glanced up at him. "Cuts into your nap time, huh?" she teased. 

Giles sighed. "I'm exhausted," he said. "And your quarters don't adjoin the training area." 

She shook her head at his look of admonishment. "You were the one who wanted the biggest room," she said. "And the main office had all the features you thought were necessary for the archives." 

Giles frowned. "Yes, I realize that," he admonished her. "But I certainly didn't consider that the large windows would make it so…accessible." 

Willow laughed. His office area was much like the one in the old Sunnydale high library, although twice the size. Tucked away in one corner of the largest storage area of the warehouse, it was built so that the facility manager was able to observe his workers with little difficulty. This meant that two full walls were comprised of large-paned windows. They made it easy to see out…but also easy to peek inside as well. His private quarters weren't so private. At least Xander had helped outfit him with some vertical blinds. But apparently even they didn't keep the noise down to a manageable level. 

"Look, if you ever need to use our room to catch up on some sleep, you're welcome to it," Willow said. "Our bed is huge, and…" 

She shut up when Giles sent an uncomfortable glance her way. "My own bed will suffice," he said in clipped tones. 

"I meant when we weren't using it," Willow qualified, but even that somehow didn't sound right. 

"The curfew seems to be helping," Wood pointed out. 

The girls were only allowed in the training area from six a.m. to ten p.m. For the purposes of patrolling they had to use the front exit to get in and out of the building. This cut down on the amount of traffic passing by Giles's quarters at two o'clock in the morning. Somehow even sharing a huge warehouse wasn't even enough to give everyone the space they thought they needed. Willow was continuously amazed that they managed to live in Buffy's house for so long without actually strangling one another. Of course, there was nothing like an impending apocalypse to put things in perspective. Maybe now they just needed some imminent danger to keep people from stepping on each other's toes. 

"I was thinking," Willow said as they pushed through the double doors that lead into the training area. "I know this Hellmouth is much smaller than the first, and so there's less of a mystical draw than we're used to. That certainly has played out so far, because except for your basic vampires, the girls haven't run into anything out of the ordinary. But do either of you feel like we're…" she paused, searching for the words. 

"Like we're waiting for the other shoe to drop?" Wood finished for her. 

"Exactly," Willow said. 

The doors closed behind them, cutting off the sunlight and for the moment plunging the room into twilight as their eyes adjusted to the change. They paused at the edge of the room. Ahead of them a group of a dozen or so girls were completing a set of jumping jacks. A slender brunette stood at the head of the crowd, pacing before her charges with her hands on her hips. She wore a pair of loose sweats and a gray hooded sweatshirt to ward of the chill that permeated the large room. 

"Okay," Kennedy called as the girls finished. "Now back to that routine I showed you." 

The girls groaned. Ignoring their muttered complaints, Kennedy glanced over her shoulder to spot the trio standing near the doors. Smiling, she waggled her fingers at Willow, who beamed in response. Standing at attention once more, she whipped her head back toward the girls, who'd remained stationary to observe the interaction. 

"I mean it," she snapped. "Get those legs in the air—start kicking." 

Willow didn't take her eyes off her lover as she continued, "We haven't seen a hint of the First. It probably could make itself known through this Hellmouth, but…not a peep. What do you think it's planning?" 

Giles shook his head. "It may have put on a good show, but make no bones about it—the First expended a lot of energy to create that army. And now that its forces were defeated, it may take some time for it to rise to that level of power again. But that is only if it intends to continue on its previous course. I don't think it will." 

Glancing up at him in confusion, Willow asked, "You don't? It's just going to give up after all of that?" 

"Not give up, Willow," Giles said. "The First began this crusade because it believed that Buffy had broken a cardinal rule with her resurrection and continued work as a Slayer. The rule stated that there could be but one chosen Slayer—that upon a Slayer's death the power was to pass on to another. Buffy broke that rule when she regained her life and her powers." 

"I broke that rule when I brought her back to life," Willow corrected him quietly. 

Giles sighed. "We've gone over that," he said kindly. "For you to blame this on yourself—it doesn't take into account the other factors of the situation. Faith and Buffy had co-existed before Buffy's death. The First might have very well achieved these same ends before we faced Glory." 

"But it didn't—" Willow began, stuttering to a halt when Giles looked at her in chastisement. "Okay, no more blame parade," she muttered. 

"As I was saying," Giles continued. "Buffy used the power of the scythe to alter that cardinal rule for all time. There is not but one chosen one. There are hundreds of Slayers in this world, and more are being born every day. The First has no recourse but to focus its attentions on bringing about a balance of evil to face the increased powers of good." 

"So more uber-vamps?" Willow asked. "Another army?" 

Giles shook his head. "I don't think it will devote so much energy to another such project," he said. "Not when the first was such a disastrous failure. It cannot risk the chance of losing another huge portion of its powers. No, my belief—and there seems to be some scholarly corroboration with this—is that it will focus itself upon the evils that currently reside in this world. The time of settling scores is finished. It will not risk being vanquished completely. It must bolster the forces that currently exist in the world." 

"So we're back to the old tight-rope act, then?" Willow asked. "Good versus evil, darkness and light, none having more strength or abilities than the other. The First won't try to destroy the world again?" 

"Not for the foreseeable future, anyway," Giles answered. "It cannot—it doesn't have the resources after the recent trouncing. And with our increased powers another failure might mean the First's own permanent banishment from this world. Would you take that risk?" 

Willow shook her head. "I see your point," she said. 

Giles patted her shoulder. "Not to worry," he teased. "There will be other apocalypses." 

Smiling, Willow added, "And I probably won't even be the cause of them all." 

When he instantly sobered, she asked, "Took the joke too far that time?" 

"Just a bit," he responded. 

"Hey," Kennedy said, out of breath as she jogged over to them. "I missed you." 

Willow caught her breath as the other woman threw her arms around her and squeezed her tightly. Returning the embrace, she breathed, "I missed you, too." 

"Did you find the girl?" Kennedy asked. When Willow nodded, she smiled in satisfaction. "You haven't been wrong yet," she said, beaming with pride. 

"Well, the coven helps me a lot," Willow began modestly before being hugged so fiercely that her breath was expelled from her lungs with an audible gasp. 

"They are only able to assist in sensing the fluctuations of energy throughout the world," Giles told her. "You're the one with the power to pinpoint the specific girls we're looking for." 

"Well, I guess…yay, me," Willow finished lamely. "I do want to visit them again once we're able to get access to Kennedy's passport." 

"You would wait for me?" Kennedy asked. 

"I wouldn't go to England without you," Willow promised, pressing her cheek against the warmth of her girlfriend's neck. 

"Your uncle still hasn't responded to our inquiries?" Giles asked. 

Finally pulling away from Willow, Kennedy shook her head. "I told you, I wouldn't exactly be welcomed back into the fold. My family kind of frowns upon scandal, and…Slayers, vampires, demons…not good press for an upstanding family like the Hayworths." 

"Well, if it ever gets to the point that we can't contact them, I can always see what I can get through the computer," Willow offered. 

"Let's do what we can before resorting to felonious entry into the Social Security Administration, shall we?" Giles intoned. 

"Listen, what are your plans for this afternoon?" Kennedy asked, changing the subject. 

"I'm going to retire for the moment," Giles said. 

Wood grimaced as he moved forward, but did a good job of hiding the extent of his discomfort. "I think I'm ready for some downtime myself," he said. 

"Then I can borrow Willow for awhile?" 

Shaking his head, Giles reached up to wipe his lips, hiding a narrow smile. "I think that is permissible," he agreed. 

The words were barely out of his mouth before Kennedy grabbed her girlfriend by the hand and dragged her toward the metal staircase leading to the second floor. Shaking his head, Giles watched the girls giggling as they rushed away. 

"To be young," he sighed. 

Robin nodded. "I'd like to believe I am, but after yesterday, I'm beginning to think I have more in common with you than I do with them." 

Giles frowned. "Thank you so much." 

With a flash of white teeth, Robin grinned at him. Clapping a hand on the older man's shoulder, he said, "Cheer up, Rupert. At the rate I'm going, I'll be crippled long before you are." 

"Well, that's something, anyway," Giles chuckled. He turned toward his quarters, waving away the two girls standing by to question him about some otherworldly matter. 

"Do you need help getting up the stairs?" a small voice asked at Robin's elbow. 

Glancing down, Wood saw Rona peering up at him in concern. "I noticed you were limping," she pointed out. "Did you four get into trouble?" She glanced toward the doors as if expecting to see someone there. "Where is Faith, anyway?" 

Wood sighed. "Faith had to go underground for the time being," he said. "We expect to see her again real soon." 

Rona frowned. "You left her on her own?" she asked. 

"She left us," Wood snapped, pushing past her. "And I can get upstairs just fine on my own." 

* * *

When Kennedy lead Willow into the large communal bathroom left behind from the time the building supported a large staff of warehouse workers, Willow was amazed to see a dramatic change in decoration. The stark white walls—scrubbed clean by the efforts of Slayer strength when the group first moved in—were lit by the shadowy flickers of several large candles. Incense burned on the countertop lining the right hand wall, and a small radio played soft music. 

"What is this?" Willow asked. 

Kennedy smiled. "I sent Margaret ahead when you drove up," she said. "I planned on having a lot more candles, lots of white flowing fabric, colored lights, the works…but Jinn said she'd kick my ass if I burned the place down so I figured less was more in this instance. There's no bathtub in this damned building, though. We'll have to settle for a shower." 

When Willow turned to look at her, she closed the bathroom door and slowly pulled off her hooded sweatshirt. She was wearing her black bra—the lacy one she knew was Willow's favorite. 

"How did you know I was coming back today?" Willow asked suspiciously. 

Kennedy shrugged. "I didn't," she answered. "I've been wearing these every day and washing them at night." 

"Seriously," Willow said. "We didn't even get the chance to call ahead and let you know when to expect us. And what do you mean by 'these?'" 

With a sly grin, Kennedy slid her sweats down from her hips. Willow spotted the black lace before the pants hit the floor. 

"The others know we're in here," Willow reminded her. Her mouth was dry, but somehow her analytical side just couldn't help but intrude upon her lust with cold facts. "Someone might walk in on us." 

"Margaret is guarding the door," Kennedy responded. "She's not to allow anyone in until we come back out." 

"They'll know what we're doing," Willow gasped. 

Kennedy shook her head in exasperation. Kicking the sweats out of her way, she stepped closer to her lover. "Loosen up, Will," she said. "They know we share a room, and a bed. I think they've figured out our little secret. Now are you going to let me seduce you, or not?" 

Willow took a deep breath when Kennedy pressed her body against her. "Sorry," she said. "My brain always flies in a million different directions at the same time, and—" 

"And when you get nervous, you babble," Kennedy finished for her. "But I have a cure for that." 

Willow opened her mouth to ask another question, but Kennedy darted forward to capture her lips with her own. The kiss was gentle and sweet, more exploration than passion. But it quickly deepened with intensity. Kennedy softly traced Willow's lips with her tongue, finally teasing them open to taste her mouth. 

Finally forced to break away momentarily to catch her breath, Willow whispered, "Thank you for this." 

"I can do a lot more with my tongue than French kiss," Kennedy confided, reaching up to cup her lover's breast through her shirt. 

Willow shook her head. "No, I mean—it was sweet of you to plan this homecoming for me. I love you." 

Kennedy smiled, her lips gently curving as the tender expression lit her eyes with sudden emotion. "I love you, too," she said. "Now take off your clothes." 

Laughing, Willow squealed in surprise when Kennedy grabbed the edge of her shirt and hauled it up over her head. "I mean it, I'll throw you in there fully dressed if you don't hurry up," she growled. 

Outside, Margaret and Jinn glanced at each other when a loud shout of laughter erupted from inside the bathroom. "Why are we standing out here again?" Jinn wondered. 

"Because we live with twelve other girls and this is the only bathroom on this floor," Margaret responded. "And because we owe Kennedy after last night." 

"Hey, I said I was sorry about that," Jinn snapped. "That Harbrath demon came out of nowhere. How the hell was I supposed to know it had two more arms on its back?" 

"Yeah, well, it was a good thing Giles wasn't around to hear about that one. We would be reading those dusty books right now, expanding our minds." 

The girls laughed. Inside, the sudden spray of water masked the sounds emerging from the bathroom. They both relaxed a bit, happy that the shower was on the opposite side of the room and Kennedy now had some privacy. 

"Besides, I think it's cute," Margaret continued. "If they can find some happiness after everything that happened, then we know the world really is worth fighting for." 

Jinn shook her head. "Only you would turn getting laid into a philosophical argument for defending the earth from evil," she muttered, but grinned afterward. 

In the bathroom, Willow leaned back against Kennedy under the spray of water as her lover massaged the kinks out of her shoulders. "God, you're tight," Kennedy said. Willow burst out laughing. "Shit, you know what I meant." 

The shower stall was extremely narrow and nearly completely dark since the only light source were the few measly candles on the other side of the room. But Willow felt her girlfriend's blush when she turned around and cupped her face in her hands. 

"For being so cocky, you are embarrassed far too easily," Willow whispered against her lips. 

"Hey, I'm getting better at this sensitive crap," Kennedy muttered, returning the kiss. "Exhibit A, right outside of this shower stall." 

"Okay, you're getting better at the sensitive crap," Willow agreed. "Now shut up and do me." 

* * *

More than forty-five minutes later, Willow was just finished getting dressed in their room when a sharp knock sounded at the door. "It's open, Kennedy," she called, thinking her girlfriend had returned from cleaning up the bathroom. 

"Um, Willow?" Andrew's muffled voice sounded through the door. 

Frowning, Willow flipped her wet hair back from her shoulders and hurried toward her bedroom door. At one time the room had been used as storage. There were no windows and just one small light fixture in the ceiling. After Xander helped complete some electrical work, she and Kennedy grudgingly agreed to take the room. It was one of the larger ones on this floor, so there wasn't much to complain about. At least they were able to have power now that Giles had finalized the sale of the building a month or so earlier. 

While the Genesis Realty company seemed a bit surprised at the opportunity to unload the property, they actually hadn't asked very many questions about how it was to be used. Giles's cover story painted him as an antiquities dealer who was in need of some storage for his rather large collection, and it seemed to pass rather easily. Willow guessed that no one really wanted to have to deal with this area of the city, anyway. 

Opening the door, Willow was surprised to see the expression on Andrew's face. "What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed. 

"Hi, and welcome back," he said with a little wave. But his features were tight and his smile guarded. "I'm sure you have some interesting finds to share with us all after your travels, but I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time first." 

"Yeah, what's up?" Willow said, shaking her head. 

"Well, you know how before everything happened back in Sunnydale I created a series of video documentaries of the events as they unfolded, and then I had to send them away because I thought Buffy might try to destroy them. But they were extremely important artifacts. Future generations may need to see them if the First returns and we're not around to help out." 

Willow interrupted, "Andrew, is this going anywhere? Because I have a lot of work to do." 

"I had my cousin in San Diego send them to me two weeks ago and hid them in my room in this really great hiding place but somehow Xander found them, I don't even know how, and now he won't stop watching them," Andrew said with one breath. His voice nearly faded out by the end, and he gasped quickly before finishing, "He's been holed up in the rec room for three days." 

"Oh my God," Willow gasped. Brushing past Andrew, she snapped, "Why didn't you take them away from him? He shouldn't be watching those." 

Hurrying behind her as she stalked down the hallway toward the recreation room, Andrew said, "Okay, there's me wanting the videos back, and then there's Xander who wants to keep them because his true love is in them…how do you see this ending favorably for me?" 

"You should have asked for some help," Willow chastised him. She turned to face him when they reached the closed door at the end of the hall. "He's alone in there?" 

Andrew nodded. "He locked the door, and we didn't want to…bother him." 

"Well, he needs to be bothered," Willow said. "He's in mourning, and he shouldn't go through it alone. Why don't you let me handle this now?" 

Andrew seemed hesitant to abandon his cause, but Willow placed a hand on his arm and gently turned him away. "Okay," he finally said. "I was waiting for the van anyway, because it's my turn to do the shopping. That little Geo that Giles bought for us just doesn't cut it." 

Watching him walk away, his blond head held high, Willow smiled to herself. Somehow the boy had become their unofficial mascot. The girls pretended to be annoyed by his antics, but she knew they all worshipped him for some strange reason. It was probably because he was just so non-threatening, no matter how many times he reminded them of his demon raising abilities. The geek part they could do without, but they'd all learned to tune that out when he really got going on a rant. 

She twisted the doorknob of the recreation room door, but it was locked just as Andrew had said. Holding her hand before the lock, she whispered three words under her breath. With a click, the locking mechanism was tripped and the door popped open. She felt a small but distinct sensation of pride, just as she always did when her spells were successful. Willow was her own skeleton key. 

Inside, the room was dark. At one time it had been a break room, and the tables were still haphazardly arranged across the floor with multi-colored plastic chairs circling them. There were now several couches in one corner along with an aging television set and VCR that Andrew had somehow scrounged from the trash somewhere. In fact, much of the décor in the building was due to Andrew's dumpster diving adventures. He found an amazing amount of decent stuff. 

On the television screen, Anya spoke to the camera in her sharp, abrupt tones. Willow wasn't sure what she was saying, because the sound was too low. When the blonde woman reached the end of her speech, the film suddenly jumped and started rewinding, stopping again at the beginning of her appearance. The woman on the screen started repeating the same speech over again, prompting Willow to hurry across the room. 

"Xander?" she asked. 

The man on the couch in front of her didn't acknowledge her presence. He was slumped forward on the cushion, peering at the television intently. When several moments passed and he still hadn't responded, Willow waved her hand in front of her. The television screen went black an instant later and the videotape popped out of the machine. 

At last, Xander turned in his seat to face her. She was shocked by his appearance. He never really was one for five o'clock shadow, but his grizzled cheeks bore the growth of several weeks worth of beard. She could tell he'd lost a lot of weight just in the time she'd been gone. He hadn't been this down when she and Giles had left, and according to Andrew he'd only had the tapes for three days. She wondered if anything else had happened in the weeks they'd been traveling. 

"Oh, Xander," Willow sighed. Circling the couch, she sat at one end, giving him plenty of space. She wanted to reach out and touch that tortured face, but wasn't sure how he would react. "What are you doing in here all alone?" 

"You're back," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "How did things go?" 

Willow frowned. "Xander," she said, "what are you doing? You shouldn't be watching these tapes." 

He sat back with a sigh. "It's all that's left for me," he said. 

She shook her head. "No," she said. "You're grieving. Things are going to hurt for awhile. We all miss her. She was an amazing person. And she would be so upset to see you like this." Her voice caught at the end as tears stung her eyes. 

As she spoke, Xander glanced in the opposite direction, at the armchair near the opposite end of the couch. He stared at it for several seconds before returning his attention toward Willow. 

"I know," he said. "That's why I'm watching her. To remember how she really was, and not…" his voice trailed off. "I'm going to be okay," he promised. "I'm just a little down right now. I know you mean well, Will. But I'm not ready to talk about it, okay? Can we just not talk about it?" 

Willow frowned, but nodded. "How is your eye?" she asked. "You'd just taken off the patch when we left. Have you had any problems?" 

He shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Sight's returned fully. Check it out. I think you have a future in medicine." 

Xander leaned toward her, swiveling his head so she could see the left side of his face. There was still some scar tissue on the upper lid and near the temple where Caleb had clawed his face, but his once destroyed eye had finally re-grown. It was a tricky conjuring on her part, and Willow had taken it very slowly. Over the course of two months she'd worked her magic to replace his left eye. She hadn't been sure he would ever have his sight returned, but knew just having the eye itself would help so much with his self-esteem. 

"I'm a little worried about the discoloration," she murmured. The iris was cloudy, making it appear bluish-white. "But you say you can see clearly?" 

Xander nodded. "Back to one hundred percent," he said. "I'm telling you, you're not too far off from being Doctor Rosenberg." 

"A witch doctor, that will be the day," she muttered. "Oh, hey, but witch doctor is right, 'cause they do exist." Willow paused, staring at him. "Will you please come out of here, though? We don't have to talk. There are plenty of boxes to be carried inside from the van before Andrew takes it out grocery shopping. Just be outside with me." 

Taking a deep breath, he finally nodded once more. "Yeah," he agreed. "Give me a few minutes to clean myself up." 

Willow stood. Taking a step toward the television to retrieve the tape, she was stopped by his next words. 

"Please, just let me keep it," he pleaded. 

It wasn't healthy, but for some reason she just couldn't refuse him. Feeling herself tear up again, Willow's lip trembled slightly as she nodded. "Okay," she whispered. "I'm just going back to my room. Come by when you're ready." 

After she left, Xander leaned forward to push the tape back into the VCR. A few more minutes, he promised himself. Then he'd shower and shave. He'd be as good as new. 

"Why do you do this to yourself?" a familiar voice asked. 

His heart clenched in his chest at the sound of that voice. "I told you to leave me alone," he said, closing his eyes. 

"That tape is only hurting you," the voice crooned. "Willow was right, I don't like to see you like this." 

Opening his eyes, Xander glanced toward the armchair where Anya was sitting. She'd been there the entire time he and Willow had been talking. She was everywhere these past few weeks—he couldn't take three steps without seeing her. 

"You're not her," he said to the thing staring at him. "I know what you are, and this isn't going to work." 

Anya shook her head. She still wore the clothes she'd died in, but thankfully the fatal wounds weren't there. He didn't think he could bear it if she appeared to him like that. 

"You think I'm trying to manipulate you into doing something for me," she said. "But I'm not. I told you, it's really me. I'm really here with you." 

Gritting his teeth, Xander hurled the remote control at her. It sailed through her head and clattered against the wall behind her. "I know what you are," he repeated. "Get out of here!" he shouted. Jumping to his feet, he punched the play button on the VCR and watched as Anya's face filled the screen once more. "That's her," he muttered to himself. "You're not the real one. Just leave me alone." 

* * *

The diner was just about the filthiest she'd ever seen, but Faith figured she wasn't likely to be recognized in a dive like this. There weren't any demon bars in town that she'd been able to find. Those were the best for avoiding the authorities altogether. Humans had the greatest ability to ignore the otherworldly in their midst. Surrounded by monsters, she was invisible. 

This place served breakfast all day, which was just fine by her. Slapping her two dollars on the counter, Faith ordered the special. She gazed around the place as she waited for her food, sipping her soda. It was bad for her bones, but she had never been much of a milk girl. 

There were only two other patrons this early in the morning. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she noted that it was just after three a.m. In a couple of hours she'd have to find a place to hang out for awhile. Even a diner like this was off limits during daylight. She had no way of knowing how many beat cops made stops here during the day. So far she'd been lucky enough to avoid being seen on the street tonight. 

"Hey," she said when the waitress served her plate. "How far are we from the Utah border?" 

The large woman stared at her a moment before responding, "Why, you need to leave the state or something?" 

It was a joke, but Faith only shook her head and stared down at her breakfast. "Thanks for the food," she mumbled. 

She dug in, feeling famished. There were no demon bars in this little speck of a town, but there'd been vampires—more than she would have guessed. She'd dusted three before heading over here to get something to eat. Even though she was technically on the run, she figured it wouldn't hurt to continue doing the work she was destined for. Besides, killing vamps was just about her only source of entertainment these days. 

Faith barely noticed when someone sat beside her at the counter. She was hungry, and it wasn't likely that she'd be taken by surprise here, so her instincts didn't pick up on any sort of danger. It was kind of rude to ignore the little social rule that clearly stated a person should leave at least one seat between them and the other occupant. 

"Now, I recognize that appetite, if nothing else," a man's voice rumbled beside her. 

Her stomach clenched in surprise, but Faith managed to control her response. Jumping out of her seat would probably be a little suspicious. Clutching the edge of the counter to allay her nerves, she turned to look at the man sitting next to her. He grinned at her broadly, his teeth white against his pale face. The corners of his blue eyes quirked upward in amusement. He clearly found humor in the situation. On Faith's part, there wasn't anything funny about seeing the blond sitting beside her. 

"Spike," she gasped. "You're—" 

She found she couldn't finish the thought. Realizing that the waitress had walked out from the kitchen to wait on her new customer, Faith bit her tongue before saying it. Spike turned toward the woman. She easily returned his beautiful smile, not realizing what he was. 

"I'll just take a cup of coffee," he said. 

The waitress seemed disappointed. She turned around to fetch the pot brewing behind the counter, her shoulder slumping. Trying to appear normal, Faith picked up her fork and took another bite of eggs. They tasted rubbery, and had trouble sliding down her throat. 

"Jerome," the waitress suddenly shouted through the window to the kitchen. "How many times do I have to tell you to close the cupboards when you're done?" 

She angrily slid the metal door closed, blocking off the array of tea and sugar held inside the narrow storage compartment hanging from the wall. When she stepped away to continue berating the cook, Faith spotted movement on the cupboard's metallic surface. She tensed, but relaxed an instant later when she realized it was her own muted reflection. Beside the distorted image of her face twisting across the bent metal was a sleek blond head. Spike's reflection shifted as he reached outstretched his arm to reach for the sugar dispenser. 

Faith's fork clattered against her plate, her heart leaping into her throat. Whipping around to face Spike, she stared at him, dumbfounded. He smiled at her again as he poured sugar into the mug of coffee the waitress had left him. Her attention was then drawn to his neck, where a vein pulsed gently against the curve of his jaw. 

He jumped in surprise when she forcibly grabbed his wrist and pressed her fingers tightly against it. Faith stopped breathing when she felt the artery throb against her fingertips, pulsing in time with the heart that now beat in his chest. 

"You're alive," she finished, finally able to breathe again. 

To be continued... 


	3. Nocturnal Reverie: Chapter Two

Author's Note: Okay, so there is a blatant flashback scene here. I don't normally do these because they can be cheesy, but when I finally figured out what happened to Spike, I knew I had to show it somehow. So, there are some answers in this part, but there are also more questions. Willow and Kennedy didn't seem to make it into this part. It has already stretched on for twelve pages so I figured I had to end it where I did. So more of them next time. I hope you enjoy; please read and feed. I'd love to know what you think of it so far. I also want to give a shout out to those of you who've been contacting me regularly about this story in order to praise, pester, and encourage more out of me. You know who you are. 

* * *

_Part Two_

Faith stared across the dingy table at the blond man devouring a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. When she'd offered to pay for his breakfast, Spike had suddenly regained an appetite. They'd moved from the counter to a booth in the corner, so he wouldn't have his back to the room. Some habits died hard. Following him to the table, she'd taken a good look at him. From his ragged clothing, Faith guessed he didn't have a dime in his tattered pockets. 

The former vampire looked so different to her now that she wondered how she could have missed the change when she first saw him. Though he was still pale, that was obviously due to his nocturnal habits. A quick tan would clear that right up. The faint stale scent of death that enveloped the undead had vanished, replaced with an aroma that was very familiar to Faith—that of sweat and unwashed flesh. Spike had become human, and he looked like a bum. 

"How did this happen?" Faith asked. "B. wasn't real clear on the details, but the one thing she did say is that you were in the Hellmouth when it collapsed." 

Swallowing a bite of toast, Spike shook his tousled head and shrugged. "It's the damnedest thing," he said. "I died. I remember it. Then, I woke up. And I was like this. It was quite an adjustment, let me tell you." 

Faith frowned. He pretended to be fuzzy about the details, but she had a feeling there was a lot he was leaving out. "And how the hell did you end up here?" 

"I'm heading toward Ohio," he said casually. "Heard there were some interesting people out there." 

"And that's it?" Faith questioned. "You have this new life and you're just going to go back to what you were doing before?" 

Spike stared at her in confusion. "What else should I do?" he asked. "I'm not familiar with this human lifestyle, let alone the American dream. This country was less than a century old when I was born, you might recall." 

"I was never one for history," Faith muttered. 

"What did you do for those three years in a cell?" he wondered. 

Faith snorted. "Watched the Weather Channel and reality programming. Ask me anything about El Nino." 

Spike pointed at her with his fork. "Who won _Survivor: Africa_?" he asked. 

Smiling, Faith shook her head. "After Richard Hatch, it was all a blur." 

"I'm glad my tax dollars are being well spent," he mocked, making her laugh. 

"You don't remember what it's like being human anymore," she mused. "So you pretty much have to learn everything all over again." 

"I still remember some things," Spike told her, a gleam in his blue eyes. "Tie my shoes, comb my hair. I could spin you a bit if you fancy." 

"Oh, so tempting in your unwashed state," Faith teased. She sobered then as she considered something. "Why didn't you go after her? The biggest thing between you two is gone now." 

"First off, the biggest thing between us is definitely still in working order," he announced with a leer. 

He was quiet a moment after that. Glancing out the window, he watched a couple stroll by on their way home after a night of carousing. At first sight they appeared rather romantic walking arm in arm. But it soon became apparent that the two of them were so wasted they were forced to lean on each other for fear of toppling over. Faith wondered if they'd even end up in their own bed at the end of the night. Some vampires had a thing for feeding off drunken humans—they got all the buzz but none of the hangover, apparently. 

"I started to," Spike admitted quietly. 

When he met her gaze, she was struck by the emotion she saw in his eyes. He'd had a soul the last time she spoke with him, but now he was definitely human. There was just something there when she looked at him…something that had been absent was when he was a vampire. They lost more than their souls, she thought. Vampires lost some bit of vitality that could never be regained, no matter how much living blood they sucked. 

"I heard the rumors that she'd gone back to L.A. Not to him, though. To her father. She took the little one with her. Monsters talk," he said when Faith looked at him doubtfully. "Even to a former vampire. Or, to a bloke they still think is a vampire, anyway. Monsters can be bloody stupid." 

"No argument there," Faith murmured. "So you went to L.A…?" she prompted. 

Spike shook his head. "Didn't make it," he said. "I got halfway there and I had to turn back. It's a lost cause, girl. When I was standing there, feeling the light going straight through me for the first time in over a century, I had an epiphany. That's when you realize something—" 

"I know what an epiphany is," Faith interrupted. "Hello, prison? It has the most religious population this side of the Hellmouth." 

"Oh yeah, all that born again Christian tripe," Spike nodded. "God will forgive you for carving up your sweetie, as long as you accept Him in your heart." 

"They were more into Jesus than the big guy himself, but yeah, that's about the size of it," Faith agreed. "So you had this big, life-altering realization? What did you figure out?" 

"I was burned through from the inside," Spike said. "My body blew away on the wind and I felt it go. Not many people can remember their own death. She stood there with me a bit, but when she walked away, it was so clear to me. She won't ever have me. I can walk on bloody water and it wouldn't turn her head. Not in that way. I know it's time for me to accept that fact and move on." 

"And by moving on you're going to what?" Faith asked. "Fight the big bad with the Scoobies? That's not moving on, Spike—that's just settling. You know she'll show up eventually. If you're there in all your human glory, maybe she will turn her head. That's what you're thinking in that beady little mind of yours, right?" 

Scowling, Spike clenched his hand. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "What would you have me do? Get a job? Serve fat socialites their sodding café lattes at bleeding Starbucks?" 

He was shouting by the time he finished, and for emphasis he swept his hand across the table, tossing his plate and silverware onto the floor. Food spattered in all directions, while shards of stoneware skittered across the linoleum. Faith was on her feet in an instant. She wasn't frightened by the outburst, but she was prepared for any eventuality that might spring from his tantrum. 

Staring at him solemnly, she commented, "Still need to work on that rage, Spike. Unfortunately with testosterone poisoning, becoming human isn't a cure for that particular problem. Hope you enjoyed your breakfast." 

She didn't even glance toward the waitress as she left, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder as she swung through the front door. Faith shook her head angrily as she stalked away from the diner. Sure, she was known for some prima donna activities in her time, but she really didn't have the time to humor a former vampire who was still pining after the pretty Slayer who always managed to outshine them all. 

Faith was halfway down the block when she heard him calling her name. With a weary sigh, she pressed forward. He was human, he wouldn't be able to keep up with her. 

"Would you slow down?" he cried, even closer. 

Surprised, Faith turned to face him. He was right behind her, out of breath as he caught up. "How the hell did you move that fast?" she wondered. 

"I was always spry," he explained, panting. "Though I could really do without the heart palpitations." 

Faith frowned. "Palpitations?" she asked. Reaching forward, she pressed her hand against his chest. Through the thin t-shirt he wore, she felt his heart thudding frantically within his ribcage. "It doesn't feel irregular to me." 

Spike gasped for air. "Everything speeds up so damned quickly," he said. "Breathing faster, heart pounding, stomach gurgling—my body used to be still, and now I'm always in flux." 

Faith laughed. "You really don't remember being human," she responded. "Just give it some time. You might want to lay off the smokes." 

"You're running from something," he said. 

Frowning, she retorted, "You were there for this, remember? Big bust out, Faith on the lam. Murderers don't get time off for averted apocalypses." 

"No," Spike said. "You could have stayed with the others, laid low under their care. You're not just running from the fuzz. You think you're tainting them somehow; a bad girl perverting the good guys with her presence." 

"What the hell do you know about it, anyway?" Faith demanded. 

"We're a lot alike, you and I," Spike murmured, leaning closer. "Pasts are a bit of darkness we don't want to revisit, but the future…the future isn't quite so rosy, either." 

"So what, you think we're just going to hang now?" Faith retorted. "We're going to be best buds?" 

Spike shook his head. "Not friends," he argued. "Not just yet. But we aren't quite enemies, either." 

"You just don't have any money," Faith guessed. "And you suck as a thief now that you're human." 

"Well, there is that," Spike admitted. 

Faith sighed. "The minute I'm bored, you get the boot," she warned him. "Just stay out of my way. I'm not going to stop you if you decide to follow me a bit. For a few towns, anyway." 

"For a few towns," Spike echoed. 

When she turned to continue on her way down the sidewalk, he fell into step behind her. Spike was smart enough not to try and walk beside her. He did a good job of keeping up. Although this time, she made sure to maintain a normal speed. For some reason, she wasn't so keen on leaving him in her dust anymore. 

* * *

The motel room cost twenty-nine dollars a night, and check-in wasn't until noon. They'd be moving on just after nightfall, which gave them just over six hours to get some rest. While Faith easily hopped straight into one of the two beds and fell asleep, Spike had a difficult time of it. He shifted restlessly beneath the coverlet, never quite drifting off completely. Whenever he closed his eyes bright visions of stone and water flashed through his mind and he was instantly awakened. 

He finally rose from the bed and wandered into the bathroom. The narrow room was still steamy from their showers, and he swiped his hand across the mirror to clear it. Spike supposed it was the height of vanity to be so enamored of one's own reflection, but his had just reappeared after a century. It was difficult tearing his eyes away from the slender blond figure staring back at him. 

"Devilishly handsome, as always," he muttered, then laughed. Out in the room, Faith muttered in her sleep and twisted the blankets around her legs as she flailed her limbs restlessly. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, Spike watched as she continued to wriggle in the large bed. She was having a nightmare, he realized. He considered waking her, but wasn't quite sure how she would react to that. In the end, he decided to leave her be. Spike crossed the room to sit at the table beneath the wide window. From the chair in the corner, he could just barely see through the closed vertical blinds. The sun shone brightly outside. 

They were in the midst of Indian Summer according to the chap on the news. Faith hadn't been exaggerating about the Weather Channel—it was the first thing she flipped on when they first settled in the room. Further East the jet stream had dipped low across the Midwest, plunging the area into a cold spell. But for those in southern Utah, the temperatures swung dangerously high. Spike was grateful this dump had air conditioning. Now that was something he'd never had the fortune to experience as a human the first time around. 

Faith moaned in her sleep, making him glance over in her direction once more. She didn't do anything halfway, he realized. Even in sleep, she was fighting. It was worrisome, actually. He was supposed to be helping her, but he couldn't begin to figure out how he was to do that. 

Spike frowned. She knew he hadn't told her the whole truth about why he was here. For now, he'd avoided the topic, but at some point Faith would ask again, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep the silence. But to do this right, Spike had to hold his tongue. 

There was a reason he hadn't been able to sleep since his return. Closing his eyes seemed to take him back to the pain he'd felt in the Hellmouth. And then invariably, he would see the women again, and hear their grating voices. He wondered if they aimed to haunt his dreams until the task was finished. If so, giving up didn't sound like such a terrible option anymore. He thought again about his death, and what had immediately followed. 

* * *

The light burned with a fury that eclipsed his own--the vampire's blood-thirst had consumed his very being in a ceaseless ache that could never be completely fulfilled. He felt the flare begin to overtake him. Thankfully he was alone at last, and Buffy would not see him leaving this world. The pain was strangely cold. It numbed his middle and arched slowly outward to engulf his limbs. Spike smiled and waited for death to finally take him. 

Darkness swept the pain away at last; sweet oblivion replacing all sensation, all unrealized longing. But no—his thoughts remained. Spike felt the solidity of earth beneath him and opened his eyes in confusion. 

He lay in a bed of flowers, surrounded by the cloying scent of lilies. Spike gagged at the smell and jumped to his feet. Gazing around himself, he saw that he was in a courtyard of some sort, with carefully tended gardens encircling a central cluster of stone columns. Covered with the heavy growth of ivy, the stone pillars blocked his view of what lay inside. But the gurgling of water told him there was more to be seen. 

Walking forward, Spike moved toward the pillars. As he stepped onto the stone pathway running between the flowerbeds, he realized his boots had disappeared. "Bloody hell," he whispered, staring down at his bare feet. 

His voice echoed sharply, reverberating through the gardens, and he realized he wasn't outside after all. Staring up, he saw overcast skies with low clouds lazily drifting past. It was an illusion. 

Frowning, Spike muttered, "If this is Heaven, I want a refund." 

As the comment returned to his ears, bouncing off the stone pillars ahead, another voice quickly followed. "Vampire…" 

Feeling a strange chill at the sound of that voice, Spike was nonetheless propelled forward to investigate its source. He approached the pillars, ducking as he passed through the choking growth of ivy. Inside the enclosure lay a marble fountain. The spray of water caught rays of light streaming down from above and reflected them in a prismatic display of color. So dazzled by the sight, Spike almost didn't notice the women sitting on the other side. 

There were two of them—one blonde of fair skin and delicate countenance, dressed in flowing robes the color of blood, and the second a brunette with the dark and hearty features of middle Europe or Moorish Spain, her white robes a startling contrast to her dusky skin. Spike grinned at the sight of them. That old ache rose sharply within him, and he nearly shifted into his vampiric form when the sudden lust unfurled in his belly. 

"Vampire," the blonde woman said again. "You would bite us before knowing what we are?" 

The women, sitting back to back on the edge of the fountain, leaned forward simultaneously to peer across the water at him. As they moved, Spike spotted a strange light reflecting in their eyes. For an instant, they appeared old and withered, ancient beyond reckoning. A moment later their age and power rolled over him like the musky scent of blood laced with fear. 

Spike took a step back, uncertain. "What are you?" he asked. "Not angels." 

The brunette pointed at his chest. "We represent the Ones who created that." 

With her movement, the amulet around his neck suddenly rose away from his body. He'd hardly noticed it was still there. Spike watched in amazement as the trinket floated over the water to settle in the brunette's outstretched hand. 

"And who are they?" Spike wondered, cocking his head. "Will they be dropping in as well?" 

The women glanced at one another in amusement. "The Powers do not speak to lesser beings," the blonde said. "We are to serve as their voice today." 

"I'm dead," Spike realized. He'd known it before that moment, of course, but the gravity of it finally hit him. 

Nodding, the women rose from their perch to separate briefly as they circled the fountain, the blonde moving left while the brunette took the right. When they stood together before him a minute later, Spike moved back another step. This seemed to be immensely humorous to them, for they shared another grin. 

"You sacrificed your life and newly found soul in order to protect those around you," the blonde said. "That is a tremendously selfless action." 

"But is it enough?" the brunette asked him. 

"Enough for what?" Spike asked suspiciously. 

"Enough to erase what you have done as a vampire," she replied. "Would you be comfortable facing your judgment at this time—to resign yourself to whatever decision is made concerning your place in the world after?" 

"What's this?" Spike growled. "What are you going on about?" 

"How would you like the opportunity to start again?" the blonde questioned. "To clean the slate, so to speak, before you are to face the cosmos?" 

"You would send me back," he stated. When they nodded, he asked, "What's the catch?" 

The women laughed. On the surface, the mirth was as light and pure as the gurgling water behind them. But Spike could hear the grating tones underneath…the power that sprung out of eternity. They may have appeared to be normal women, but Spike sensed that there wasn't a lick of humanity to be found within them. His skin crawled at the sound. 

"You cannot accept the reward without merit," the blonde nodded. "There is but one task for you to perform upon your return to Earth." 

"A girl," the brunette continued just as her companion finished. "With the power of demons but the beating heart of humanity." 

"Buffy," Spike whispered. He frowned when they instantly shook their heads. 

"No," they said simultaneously. 

"She has fulfilled her obligation to the Powers…" the blonde started. 

"…and may leave this mortal coil at any time." 

"She has already been judged," the blonde explained. "We have no further interest in her. But there is another…one with darkness in her soul. She existed before the others, before the rule allowed for many where once there was but one." 

"You're talking about Faith," Spike said. 

They nodded again. Spike was getting irritated by the cryptic messages, and their conjoined movements didn't help matters. 

"She has a task ahead of her," the brunette said. "One of great importance." 

"But she is blinded by her own passions. She may not recognize the opportunity when it presents itself," the blonde continued. "She will need someone to watch, to show her the path when it appears. It is but a simple task for one who has accomplished so much already." 

Spike nodded. "What is her task?" he asked. 

The blonde smiled wanly. "The Wheel has not yet turned that far," she said. "We cannot give you that information. Nor can you tell Faith how you were able to return to Earth." 

"I can't tell her why I'm there," Spike said. "And I won't know what she's supposed to do. Are you trying to make her fail?" 

"If Faith is told what she must do, then the action itself loses all meaning," the blonde said. "She has not fulfilled her duty as a protector. She must complete the task before she is judged. But she must do so on her own, with only your eyes to assist her." 

"I do this, and I pass on to the next world as clean as a newborn?" Spike asked. 

"Perhaps," the blonde said cryptically. When Spike began to sputter angrily in response, she turned toward the fountain. "Drink this," she said, leaning toward the water. A silver cup had appeared in her hand. Filling it with water, she faced him again and offered him the drink. 

"What is it?" Spike asked suspiciously. 

"It is your reward," the brunette told him. "You must do this to live again." 

Gritting his teeth, Spike finally accepted the cup. The metal was cold to the touch. Raising it to his lips, he realized the women were watching him with great anticipation. He shook his head in exasperation. Probably got a little boring up here all alone, he figured. Spike tipped the glass slightly in an impromptu toast, then threw his head back and drank its contents. It had been some time since he'd drank water, but it didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. 

He lowered the cup to his side as he waited several moments to see what would happen. Spike met the women's gazes and asked, "That was my reward? I don't feel any—" 

Spike lurched forward when he felt something spasm deep within him. A sudden pressure built in his chest, as if a heavy weight had settled over him. The cup dropped to the stone floor with a metallic clatter and rolled away toward the pillars. The world seemed to tip dangerously to one side, and Spike found himself on his the ground without knowing how he'd fallen. Dark specks danced at the corners of his vision. 

"…must breathe…" a female voice pleaded with him. 

Spike opened his mouth with a gasp, then felt a rush of air sweep inside of his body and fill his lungs. His breath expelled a moment later, and the ragged cycle began anew. The movement was sharp and painful, foreign to his dead body, but he was breathing for the first time in over a century. 

Gulping mouthfuls of air as he panted, Spike pressed his face against the cool stone walkway. He saw the sandaled feet of the women towering over him, but didn't glance up to meet their worried gazes. He was too enthralled by the sensation of his own heart fluttering hurriedly in his chest. Spike pulled his hand against himself to delight in the steady thud vibrating through his sternum. 

"I'm human," he gasped. 

"Yes," one of the women responded from above. 

Spike slowly pushed himself to his feet. Dazed, he stared around himself with new eyes. The first thing he noticed was how dull everything appeared. His vampiric senses were gone. A little disappointed by that, he turned to face the women once more. 

"I'm going back to Earth as a human?" he asked. 

The blonde nodded. "That is your reward," she explained. "But it is conditional. Until you have completed the task you have been given, your human life is not assured. But when Faith fulfills her duty, you will live out the years you would have had before you were turned into a vampire. It is based on these years that you will be judged. Your sins as a vampire will be cleansed." 

"If I don't help Faith finish the job, then I go back to the way I was," Spike nodded. "I get it." 

"Then begin," the brunette ordered him, sweeping her hand before his face. 

With her movement, darkness engulfed his senses. Spike awakened some time later to feel a strange heat spreading across his back. Thinking he was back in the Hellmouth with the sun burning through his flesh, he jumped to attention. The light was just as bright as it had been that day, but as Spike stood blinking in the bright heat, he realized he wasn't burning after all. 

He stood in a field, the midday sun glaring down at him. Spike shaded his eyes and was forced to squint. The light was too bright for his eyes to withstand. Tears spilled out onto his cheeks. His sight was far too vulnerable after existing in darkness for so long. Sullenly, Spike wiped a hand across his face. It figured he wouldn't be able to enjoy it, he thought bitterly. 

It was then that he noticed the odd sensation of wind caressing his skin. Blearily glancing down at himself, he could just make out his naked body through the course of water leaking out of his eyes. Spike groaned. 

"Bloody hell," he said again. 

* * *

Spike was jolted out of his musings when Faith suddenly rolled over in her bed and stared at him. "Why aren't you asleep?" she asked, clearly irritated that he'd been sitting there watching her. "Your body needs it now. We have to travel hard tonight, and I'm not going to wait for you if you can't keep up." 

Shaking his head, Spike said, "I've slept all I can." 

Faith reached under her blanket and started squirming faintly. Spike watched the outline of her body undulate under the thin fabric, surprised to find himself mesmerized by the movement. She finally pulled a wad of green bills out from beneath the blanket and tossed them at him. 

"Then buy us something to eat," she ordered. "You need some sun, anyway." 

Throwing the blanket over her head, Faith settled deeper into the bed and went back to sleep. Snorting, Spike stared down at the money spread across the tabletop. He wondered where she'd gotten it, and if that would affect the task ahead of him. He had a feeling that keeping Faith on the straight and narrow was part of the deal. For some reason, the redemption of this little girl was very important to whoever it was running the show upstairs. He shrugged to himself. The women didn't say it would be easy. 

"It never is," he sighed to himself. 

"Spike," Faith shouted from within her burrow. "Get the hell out of here and let me sleep." 

* * *

Xander glanced around furtively before closing the door to his room and locking himself inside. An opaque plastic bag crinkled in his hand. When it seemed he was alone, he relaxed his stance and walked toward his bed. 

"What's in the bag?" a female voice asked, startling him. 

Nearly tripping and falling across the bedspread, Xander managed to regain his balance in time to spot Anya sitting in the corner of the darkened room. 

"Where did you go?" she demanded. "I lost you for a minute." 

Easing his hand into the plastic bag, Xander grabbed the plush toy he'd purchased earlier while Andrew was busy wrestling a cartload of groceries through the narrow aisles of the store. Giles had taken so long to empty the van that Andrew had been forced to wait overnight to do his shopping. He was still so perturbed by this that he hadn't even noticed when he was left alone for a few minutes while Xander visited the small toy section of the store. 

Xander swiftly yanked his prize out of the bag and waved it at Anya for an instant before tossing it at her. At the sight of floppy ears surging toward her, Anya screeched and jumped to her feet. She skittered away from the stuffed rabbit when it landed in the chair she'd just vacated. Xander stared in amazement as she whirled on him angrily. 

"Why would you do that?" she demanded. "That's just so cruel." 

Xander's breath caught in his throat. "That—your reaction…" he stuttered, trying desperately to form the words. "The First would know your behavior, but it wouldn't have had such an honest reaction…" 

Anya scowled at him. "What are you babbling about?" she asked. Her features cleared as she realized what he was saying. "You thought I was the First. That's why you've been ignoring me the past two weeks?" she raged. "What a relief it is to find out that you know me so well," Anya finished sarcastically. 

Xander dropped onto the bed, stunned. "What would you have thought?" he demanded, then shook his head. He was arguing with her as if nothing had happened. Leaning forward, he cradled his head in his hands. 

Anya watched as his shoulders started trembling. Frowning, she asked, "Xander, are you crying?" When he didn't respond, she added, "Stop it. This is very uncomfortable. Xander, do you hear me?" 

"I looked for you," he said, his voice muffled by his hands. "Andrew said—" 

She sat next to him on the bed, but knew that he couldn't feel it. "I know," she responded. 

Xander looked up at her, and she vainly tried to smile in encouragement. "Why are you still here?" he asked tearfully. His breath hitched as he whispered, "Did I do something…unfinished business…?" 

Anya frowned and shook her head. "It has nothing to do with you," she said. "I—there's a brightness when you go, just like they always say. But I couldn't…I couldn't go." 

"Why not?" Xander asked. He realized with a jolt that he could see the dim outline of the door through her body. "What made you stay?" 

Sighing, Anya stood and started pacing. "I killed people, Xander," she announced. "I spent one thousand years devising new ways to torture and maim the male sex. What would happen to me over there? I'm afraid to find out what's on the other side." 

Xander frowned. "So you're just going to stay here? Forever?" 

Anya shrugged. "It's not that bad. Now that you can finally see me, it's a lot less lonely. But I really miss…" She reached out with her hand, as if trying to touch him. "Being incorporeal is less fun than you would think." 

"I always wanted the power of invisibility," Xander said. 

Rolling her eyes, Anya muttered, "I know, I know. You would hide in women's showers and saunas. You realize there is no group sex going on in those places, right?" 

Xander shook his head. "Hey, don't ruin the fantasy—" he stopped abruptly and frowned at her. 

"Oh," Anya murmured. "You aren't going to start crying again, are you?" 

"Just give me time to get used to this," he told her. "I'd just started to accept the fact that you were gone…" 

"I know," Anya replied. "We watch the living, you know. There isn't much else to do. I don't understand why you can finally see me after all this time, but…Xander, look at me." 

When he glanced up at her, she shook her head. "No, close your left eye and look at me." 

He did as she asked, then jumped slightly when she vanished. "Anya?" he cried, rising to his feet and opening both eyes again. She reappeared in an instant, standing just as she had been a moment before. 

She smirked at him in satisfaction, nodding. "You can't see me with your own eye," she said. 

"What are you talking about?" he asked irritably, then realized what she meant. He reached up with his left hand to touch his face. "Willow," he murmured hoarsely. 

"Most people can't see through the veil," she explained. "They're either born with the ability to view the spirit realm, or they devote most of their lives in the attempt to achieve it. You did it in two months. The witch grew you a magic eye." 


End file.
